


Wreck

by eyemeohmy



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 11:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: Launchpad's pretty good at wrecking stuff. And not just planes, trains, and automobiles. Drake's determined to break a few things himself.





	Wreck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tod (naughtod)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtod/gifts), [Anonymous (you know who you are lol)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anonymous+%28you+know+who+you+are+lol%29).

> Based entirely on this [anonymous comment/headcanon from naughtod](https://naughtod.tumblr.com/post/187265811868/im-back-with-more-thirst-for-drakepad-launchpad): "Im back with more thirst for drakepad: Launchpad doesnt mention it, but his chest is surprisingly sensitive. Drake discovers this while riding him and just gets the urge to gently squeeze and massage it subtly (which results in lp thrusting up into drake much harder and unraveling much more than he already has while drake does his best to tease LP more and hes just absolutely *thrilled* about it.)"
> 
> I was inspired, and so here's a fic based on that. I... hope it captures the basic gist of this headcanon. Things may be a bit wonky as I'm writing this on a laptop and oh boy do I dislike writing on laptops lmao. YEAH T-THAT'S WHY IF ANYTHING IN THIS FIC COMES OFF WRONG OR BAD, IT'S TOTALLY THE LAPTOP'S FAULT, HA.......
> 
> If you're the anon who made this comment, or naughtod, if you like the fic and you're on here, I'd like to dedicate it to you as a gift! Assuming it, uh, it's not shite.

Drake considered himself a fairly experienced mallard when it came to romance and sex, having had relationships with a number of people in the past. But when it came to Launchpad, his list of "conquests" severely paled. 

Drake instantly believed Launchpad when his friends told him he'd had many, various, numerous, and _unique_ lovers. What wasn't there to love about the big guy? Kind, warm, loyal, adventurous, open-minded, funny, gentle-- Drake often blushed just thinking about all of his boyfriend's wonderful qualities (sometimes at inopportune moments, such as in the middle of a lecture from Chief Agent Gryzlikoff).

Launchpad was apparently also something of a sex god. Maybe that was Drake just exaggerating--he had a tendency for dramatics, after all--but he hadn't expected Launchpad to unravel him not only once, not only twice, but three times during their first time in bed, leaving him a gaping, wide-eyed, drooling mess, awakening a spirituality Drake didn't even know he had. Launchpad left him with an almost out of body experience; pure, unfiltered pleasure so overwhelming Launchpad was shaking him upside down at one point, yelling his name, worried he'd broken the smaller duck until Drake came back to reality, honked, and flailed out of his arms and beak first into the carpet.

"A-Are you okay, DW?" Launchpad asked, scooping his limp and boneless partner up in his large, magnificent arms, and placing him ever so delicately on the bed. "Your eyes were open, but I didn't see any light..."

"No, I..." Drake swallowed. Launchpad handed him a bottle of water, and he gulped down the whole thing in one go. "That was..." There simply was no word to describe what he'd just experienced. Wrecked and ruined in the best possible ways; mind blowing, life changing, every single grand and great adjective from languages both living and dead. "You were..."

"D-Did I hurt-- Was it--"

Drake jerked upright, grabbed Launchpad by the shoulders, and yanked the concerned duck into a fierce, hungry kiss. Launchpad squeaked then closed his eyes, embracing Drake. Drake broke the kiss with a giant gulp of air. "No, never, never ever," he reassured, "it was... incredible. _You_ were incredible. I... I've never felt so... _good_..." That was the understatement of the fucking year.

Launchpad smiled lopsidedly. "M'glad," he said, nuzzling Drake's throat. Drake cooed and tilted his head, the feathers along his neck rising. Launchpad sat back, hands on Drake's shoulders, beaming. "So you ready for round four?"

\--

Drake thought he had two erogenous zones. The base of his tail and a spot on his inner left thigh. Launchpad didn't even need to be told; he sought them out like heat seeking missiles, flipping Drake onto his back and throwing his legs over his shoulders. Beak buried into that sweet patch on his thigh, grooming, licking, gently nibbling. Drake gasped, immediately dizzied and squirming, but then one of Launchpad's hands was reaching around to grab his tail, thumb kneading and massaging the base and oh God, Drake swore he saw more than stars, but an entire Goddamn galaxy.

Drake whimpered and writhed, promptly melting in Launchpad's arms, his mouth. His vision was doubled, eyes crossing and lidded; bill open-mouth panting and muttering nonsense in between tiny noises. Drake's trembling fingers grabbed at his trembling head, sliding through the disheveled feathers. "Nn-not fair," Drake whimpered, drool wetting his cheeks, "n-not fair nnn not fair..."

Needless to say, Launchpad had just as easily found Drake's g-spot. Both of them--one Drake didn't even know he had. It was interesting; although Launchpad was pounding him into the bed, thrusting hard against those delicious bundles of nerves that sent spikes of rapture up Drake's spine, all his feathers puffing up instantly, it never, ever hurt. Launchpad had his body figured out, as if it were as open as a simple picture book. He knew just how much force to use, knew the exact angles; knew how hard to push Drake's face into the pillow and how long to hold it there; knew how deep to sink his fingers and scratch and rub. Like the true risk-taker he was, Launchpad always playfully danced on that thin line between just right and over-stimulation. He wore Drake out and down, but never for too long.

This just wasn't right, Drake thought to himself, currently sitting in Launchpad's lap, half of his partner's cock working just the right pace and rhythm inside of him. One hand loose at his neck, forcing his head back, the other kneading the sensitive spot at his tail. Drake knew he was good at sex; his previous partners never complained. Launchpad always seemed satisfied and happy after. But it felt like he was taking more than he was giving.

How could he keep up? How could he make Launchpad feel just as fucking fantastic as he did? It wasn't a competition, no, and Launchpad, again, wasn't unhappy. Drake saw the way he looked, the way he sounded when he went down on Launchpad--all whimpering and moaning, chewing his bottom bill, Drake watching smugly as he worked and licked and sucked his partner open. And there was no faking the pleasure at the way Launchpad clung to him, rambling and gasping, every time Drake fucked him into the mattress hard enough to break the springs.

Yet, it just... didn't feel like enough. Drake wanted Launchpad to feel like he felt--blissed out of his mind and fucked practically silly. It wouldn't be too hard, and Hell, he'd tried many times, but even with all of Launchpad's delightful noises and squirming and begging, Drake knew he wasn't even close to replicating his partner's skills.

"You'd... you'd tell me if there was... if there was anything I could do... to make the, uh..." Drake licked his bill, fidgeting beside Launchpad on the edge of the bed. "... To make the sex better. You'd t-tell me, right?" He clutched Launchpad's arm desperately, eyes wide and hopeful but also scared and expecting some sort of disappointing response. "If I'm not up to p-par with--"

"Hey now, hey now," Launchpad scowled, shaking his head. He placed a hand over Drake's still holding his arm. "Don't compare yourself to the others. To anyone. You're fantastic, DW--Drake. The sex is great, too." He smiled, and it was genuine and warm and it put Drake immediately at ease. "_You're_ great."

That was enough to satisfy Drake. Whatever he was doing made Launchpad happy, and that was the most important thing. Drake no longer felt worried or inadequate.

\---

It was quite by accident that Drake finally found that edge he'd anxiously been looking for. The one that put Launchpad and him on equal footing when it came to ravishing their partners to a near breaking point.

They'd been out on patrol when they came across a gang of burglars attempting to break into a bank. The fight had been short but intense; at one point, Darkwing Duck thought his novice career as a crime fighter was about to come to an abrupt, premature end when he was looking down the barrel of a rocket launcher in his face, but he escaped with his head still on his shoulders thanks to Launchpad's help and some good timing from the St. Canard police. They left the unconscious burglars for the cops to take in, fleeing back to headquarters to heal up only a few cuts and bruises, thankfully.

But still wired on energy and drunk on endorphins and victory, the two heroes couldn't wait, immediately climbing off the Ratcatcher, embracing like long lost lovers, and falling clumsily to the floor, rolling toward a cot used for resting and leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind. They didn't even make it to the cot, Launchpad flipping onto his back as Drake, still wearing his mask, straddled his waist.

Drake leered, both ducks blushing, eyes glazed over, hearts beating way too fast. Drake used his foot to push out a kit from under the cot, containing bottles of lube, condoms, and an old Darkwing Duck comic book. Drake squeezed nearly the entire tube of lubricant in his hands. He leaned over Launchpad, preening his messy hair as his hands teased and stroked his cock. Launchpad turned his head to moan into Drake's shoulder, sighing against the feathers. He instinctively reached down, grabbing Drake's tail, thumb pushing into the spot and Drake almost bit out a chunk of his hair in surprise.

Drake sat back, impatient and needy and red in the face; Launchpad sat up, opened his mouth, but Drake shook his head. He wasn't in the mood to take this slow; he'd prep himself. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable, moving too quickly and crudely, using a bit too much force, but it gave Launchpad a nice show at least. Satisfied on both their behalf, Drake rose up on his knees, and lowered himself on the first few inches of his partner's dick. Both tensed up a moment, teeth grit and muscles clenching; little by little, they relaxed, adjusting by memory.

Drake had never been able to take Launchpad's full girth. Launchpad had been his largest partner yet, and while Drake knew he _could_ sheath himself completely on the cock with a little extra work, he'd yet to try. After all, Launchpad could unwind him with just a few strokes and flicks of the wrist--he was perfectly delighted just accepting half of Launchpad.

Drake had no intention of trying to change that tonight. It'd just be one happy accident, and the opportunity was too good to pass up. Drake moaned, bouncing nice and slow on Launchpad's dick, building a rhythm--so far so good, routine but never stale or repetitive. His hands slid up Launchpad's chest, up to his shoulders with a little more force than necessary, but then Launchpad bucked and Drake immediately sunk his fingers hard into his chest, digging past feathers and into skin.

And by God, the way Launchpad _groaned_. Drake's eyes snapped open, wide with shock. He'd... never heard Launchpad make that sound before. Usually Drake made those kind of noises during sex. Launchpad even looked surprised, swallowing loudly. What had... Drake bit his tongue, pressed his palms against Launchpad's chest and started rubbing.

Launchpad yelped, thrusting off the ground. Drake gasped--Launchpad buried himself inside the smaller duck another inch, almost too easily pushing past the muscles. This was deeper than anything he'd taken before. Drake was dizzy, excited, a grin splitting his beak; he started working his fingers with his palms into Launchpad's chest, threading and lightly plucking at feathers.

Launchpad whimpered, groping at the ground. Drake took a deep breath, wiggling down--another inch. "LP..." he whispered hoarsely, rolling his hips. "Does this feel good?" He bowed forward to nuzzle his beak against his partner's chest, in between his fondling, massaging hands, looking up at him with those hooded, seductive dark eyes.

"G-Gaahh," Launchpad stammered, panting, "nnny-yes?" He bucked as Drake pinched. Drake cried out, whipping back upright; his muscles spasmed to accommodate all of Launchpad. And when the larger bird thrust again, Drake whimpered and stilled, his keen a strangled, strained little noise.

Ah. Third g-spot unlocked.

"God," Drake groaned. He rose, carefully, just an inch or two, and slammed back down in tandem with his dragging fingers. It was almost too much for the both of them; Drake's head was spinning, he couldn't sit up. He collapsed against Launchpad, clawing at his chest, at the plumage, yelping and yipping every time Launchpad pumped inside him. Launchpad grabbed his hips, held him in place.

"Your chest... s-so sensitive..." Drake giggled, drunk on power. He pawed over Launchpad's ribs, sliding up to his collarbone to stroke. Whimpering as Launchpad pulled out a few inches then thrust back inside again, holding himself in the warm, twitching heat before resuming previous pace. "O-Oh no," Drake croaked, "b-better not do that a-again."

Drake sunk his fingers into Launchpad's chest, and dragged nice, slow, and deep. Both keened, Drake immediately throwing his arms about Launchpad's neck for purchase, mind reeling back into darkness and entire body giving one gigantic shudder--

That was the first time Drake nearly passed out from an orgasm. He knew it would not be the last, and that both terrified and excited him completely.

Drake sat back, rubbing his face. "Ah, ah, no no," he huffed, shaking his head at the streaks of cum he'd left on Launchpad's torso. "I made a mess! And I hate messes! Better clean it up!"

Launchpad whimpered.

Drake bowed down, pressing his beak against Launchpad's trembling belly, and lapped his tongue up, up, over wet feathers and flesh, palms sliding up from his hips and over his thrashing heart. Drake bit down on both his tongue and Launchpad's shoulder when Launchpad came, filling him with quick snaps of his hips, milking out every last drop until Drake swore his stomach felt a little bloated.

Launchpad flopped back on the cold ground with a rumbling sigh. Drake started to settle, cum dribbling from his ass, still full of his partner's now flaccid cock. He spread out on top of Launchpad like a shaking, warm, sweaty blanket, rising and falling with each of Launchpad's inhales and exhales.

"Shoulda told me," Drake murmured against Launchpad's throat, "'bout your chest."

"... I forgot."

Drake snickered. "Really?"

"S'been a while," Launchpad tittered, turning his head to meet Drake in an awkward little kiss. "Thanks for remindin' me."

"No problem," Drake chuckled, caressing the top of his beak. With this new information, Drake was going to wreck Launchpad just as good and perfect as Launchpad wrecked him.

Well, in the best of ways, of course.

But wrecking nonetheless.


End file.
